Маленький принц
by Wannabe-Danish-Cookie
Summary: Alfred learns from a boy thousands of galaxies away that is wiser than anyone he knows. AU. The Little Prince spin-off. Haven't read the book? Links inside.
1. The Boa

**A/N: So, I recently read the book ****_The Little Prince_****,**** and it was a beautifully crafted one.**

**I got inspired and wrote this, based on the book.**

**The beginning will be almost exactly the same, but I promise the plot will curve.**

**You do not need to have read the book to understand this, but I still do recommend reading it. You won't regret it.**

**You can read it online for free here: /books/little_ **

**Or, you can read it online for free here: antoine-de-saint-exupery/maly-princ/the-little-prince**

**I used the second one because it had multiple languages on it.**

**Enjoy!**

**.**

Once, when Alfred was a child of six years, he saw a documentary on the teevee, taken by a glorious field scientist, about the moon. It was featuring a newly discovered moon snake, not unlike a boa constrictor. The announcer had monotonously read about the reptile, and the fuzzy signal on his television showed it nearly swallowing a man.

It had said that, the moon boa, like the boa constrictor, swallowed its prey whole. Moon boas lazed around a lot after that, because their stomachs were really slow or something. Alfred really wasn't paying much attention; a fly had captured it after flitting around his ear for a while.

Child Alfred then proceeded to draw a picture, picture number one, he called it, with a very creative title. His blonde little head was bent over a sheet of paper with a crayon clutched in his grip, until a rather satisfying picture emerged.

He showed his masterpiece to his parents, a proud smile on his face.

"Are ya frightened? I betcha that yer frightened lots!"

He had stated, excited, watching for a telltale wisp of fright on the grown ups' faces.

It never came. Instead, they answered, somewhat annoyed and somewhat confused, "Frightened? Why would we be frightened of a mere key?"

His drawing was definitely not that of a key. It was quite obviously a picture of a moon boa digesting a rocketship. Thinking that his parents were just dull, Alfred drew another picture, cleverly labeled picture number two. It was of the inside of the boa, to give his guardians an extra boost in the right direction.

When he showed the explanatory picture to the grown ups, however, instead of fear and understanding in their eyes, they gently pried the sheet of paper from his needy fingers and chastised him.

"You should learn maths, and language, and science, and history. Then you'll actually be successful!" his old man had said, regarding his drawing with a click of disapproval.

"You'll go far in life, Alfred, I know it, of only you'll stop drawing thoughtless pictures," his mother had chided, and placed the artwork on the kitchen counter with a final-sounding snap.

And that is why Alfred had given up the path to being a brilliant painter, following his parents' ideals and dreams. It was tiring for him to continue explaining what drew him to art after the failures that were the two drawings.

He chose a different profession, and learned to pilot spaceships. He has flown almost all around the solar system; it is true that science has been very useful to him. At a glance, he can distinguish one of Jupiter's moons from one of Neptune's. This information is very useful when flying around.

All throughout Alfred's life he has met a great deal of adults who have been concerned with and only with matters of consequence. He has known a lot of them for a while, as friends and superiors, but that doesn't change his opinion on the topic of grown ups.

When he met a particularly clear-headed grown up, he would give them a test. Alfred would show them his drawing number one, which he had hidden away when he saw what happened to his poor drawing number two and kept in an empty bag of chips inside a pizza box. And then, the grown up, always, would stare at it curiously and ask him the same question:

"Why are you showing me a key?"

And instead of talking about the moon and moon boas and the brilliance of children, Alfred would just answer with a bright, "Oh, I was just showing you a beautiful drawing my niece made!" and continue the conversation. He would talk about matters of consequence, and wars, and American football, and the grown up would compliment him, saying that he was a fine young man.

(In actuality, Alfred had no niece; he had a nephew though.)

He would just nod and thank the grown up, bidding them farewell, and tucking his drawing and disappointment into his coat.

It seems that no one would ever get the meaning behind his drawing.

**Yup! So, yeah. This one is a bit deep, because the original was, but it is also for laughs.**

**This will be about 27 chapters, like the original book, and may go over.**

**Reviews would be greatly appreciated.**

**Tak and Best Wishes,**

**Wannabe-Danish-Cookie**


	2. The Boy

**A/N: Yeah, so, new chapter! Haha, sorry about the absence of updates.**

**VOTE: Which fic should be my priority? on my profile!**

**Enjoy!**

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Alfred lived his life mostly alone because of this stupidity he found in every grown up, his manly moments only interrupted by his brother offering him with cookies. After all, he always was fond of his near mirror image of a sibling, not that the cookies he baked were absolutely heavenly. Not at all.

Even with the company of his adorable brother, Alfred was usually shut in by himself, with no one to interact with besides the radio of his rocketship. That was until he accidentally crashed his beloved ship on the barren surface of the planet Mars.

Something had gotten jammed in the boosters so that it couldn't move properly, a hamburger. And when the poor rocket had crashed into the surface of the red sand, it had banged up the machine quite a lot. So stuck there without a companion or any knowledge on how to fix a rocket- his personal mechanic had taken a break, he was supposedly sick, but Alfred had seen him lollygagging with some drinking buddies -he started the complicated repairs on the ship.

It was more or less a life or death situation for the hapless astronaut, as of course he forgot to pack extra oxygen tanks. He liked to 'live life on the edge' as he always said. His oxygen tank was only enough to last him a week or so, if he conserved.

When he finally fell asleep, he had no clue what time of day it was, but he fell asleep nonetheless. His leather jacket was a pillow for his golden head, and he had to figure out a comfortable enough position that didn't cut off his air supply before closing his eyes. The fact that he was a whole planet away from human civilization didn't stir him in the slightest; in fact, it rather comforted him. That is why he was so surprised when a voice awoke him.

"Hey, you, American, draw me a brown bear, will you? A big, fluffy, Russian brown bear!" the voice said.

"THE FUCK-?"

"Draw me a brown bear!"

Alfred leaped to his feet then- or at least tried, his rocket stopped him from doing so, and he fell to the ground groaning -and his eyes met a rather wonderful little boy. The little person had the silkiest wheat-blonde hair, with round, boyish cheeks and the most stunning violet eyes that Alfred had ever witnessed. He had a prominent nose and rosy splotches on his face. In his small, chubby hands was a pipe, and he had a long, pinkish scarf wrapped around his neck that blew in the wind.

The astronaut only gaped, documenting the beauty of the child into his mind so he could draw it later, and promptly choked on his drool.

This little boy was on Mars, an inhabited planet as of yet, looking right at home and wanting a Russian bear. Something _really_ wasn't too right with that. He didn't seem to be lost or dying, and Alfred didn't notice an oxygen source of any sort. Was this perfect deity of a child even human? The line between dream and reality felt like it was fizzling out, like a can of soda left open for too long.

When Alfred finally stopped wracking and coughing, and swallowing a bit of saliva so his mouth didn't feel so dry, he spoke up, tentatively.

"The hell are you doing here on this godforsaken planet, kid? Where are your parents?"

If that was what one called tentatively, of course.

The kid replied, just as 'tentatively', drawing out each word as if explaining it to a mere toddler, which Alfred felt like at the moment.

"Draw. Me. A. Bear."

It seemed rather pitiful, but Alfred was absolutely terrified. The little person seemed for intimidate him more than his troll-like calculus teacher _ever_ did, and he had no choice but to take out his brand new ballpoint pen he bought at Texas; it was huge and blatantly _American_. He also took out a notepad meant for matters of consequence, and tore out a sheet of paper. He then paused in the act of picking the annoying nubs of paper off of the edges, looking up at the small child apologetically.

"I have no idea how to draw. Sorry, kiddo."

He smiled nervously, twitching.

The child, who was nearly fuming at the Americanness of the astronaut, did not have the patience to deal with American impishness. He smiled back at Alfred, eyes glinting somewhat dangerously.

"That is no excuse. Draw me a bear!"

Sweating furiously, the American nodded and started working on a drawing. His hand automatically moved on its own, blanching under the pressure of the menacing smile. Without his notice, he had drawn a picture of a moon boa swallowing a rocketship from the outside.

"I don't _need_ a moon boa swallowing a rocket ship from the outside! Moon boas and rocket ships are so American! At my place, we don't tolerate anything _remotely_ American."

The little boy said, disregarding the drawing with a huff. He was getting really impatient.

Alfred paused for a second. Finally, someone that understood! He sat up and did a dance.

"What are you-" the kid blinked at the strangely spazzing man, before being swept into a crushing hug.

"YOU UNDERSTAND!"

"_**Amerikan**__, get off!_"

"WE ARE MEANT TO BE!"

"No- get off, you capitalist fool!"

"BFFs FOR LIFE!"

Alfred was whacked on the face with a rather forceful metal pipe.

"Ow!" He rubbed his forehead.

"That's what you get," the child pouted.

"Ugh..."

"You still haven't drawn me that bear."

And that was how Alfred met the little prince.

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**Aaand, this is where the fanfic parts with the actual storyline.**

**Yup, so innocent! Russia is such a little darling~**

**Reviews would be greatly appreciated!**

**Tak and Best Wishes,**

**Wannabe-Danish-Cookie**


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